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about

From a forced misreading of the title of the book "Games Alcoholics Play." Seriously I have a feeling there are much better uses for these synapses.

lyrics

To the members of the dream team gathering dust:
You were once a great machine but now you sit unused and rust
I can hear your hearts beating hastily in soot
And listen as the blood drips from your head down to your foot

Their blood will go up in flames
You will watch them burn
And pretend that you knew their names
As you feign concern
The sun in the weary sky
Will ignite their skin
And then, you will watch them die
And rise again

To the owners of the public house who ominously lurk
And the coopers who all frequent it and scurry back to work
You cannot separate yourselves whoever you may be
It’s just a socio-political discrepancy

Their eyes will lock with yours
Your souls will touch
And that which the mind ignores
The heart shall clutch
As you sit at their funeral
You will feel their breath
It shall echo within your skull
A Genovesian death